


the exorcism's done, but some demons still linger

by AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Angst, Death, Demonic Possession, Exorcisms, Gen, Horror, Hunter!Alex, Hunter!Nic, Possessed!Strand, The Supernatural AU No One Asked For
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-18 12:25:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11290692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed/pseuds/AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed
Summary: This isn't the weirdest experience for Alex, but it's definitely the weirdest demonic possession she's ever seen.The demon's also possessing one of the weirdest (and most annoying) people she's ever met.She really hates this job.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ladies, gentlemen, and all our wonderful non-binary folk, I present to you the Supernatural AU no one asked for, but was written anyway.

Alex stares at the man bound to the chair in the center of the room, surrounded by a giant pentagram. She’s done quite a few exorcisms, but they never fail to unsettle her in some way. 

 

Maybe it was the fact that some otherworldly creature found so much pleasure in taking ordinary people and twisting them into something else. Looking them in the face was like looking in the mirror and realizing that something completely different was staring back.

 

Most demons are angry at being stuck in a devil's trap, hurling insults and threats her way. Some are just annoyed, some try to bribe her and Nic into letting them go. 

 

This one is different. 

 

This one is  _ smiling _ . 

 

She can count on one hand the amount of times that had happened, and she'd have at least four fingers left over. 

 

The demon continues awarding her a manic grin, his host's eyes completely black, as if the pupils had swallowed up the bright blue irises and the whites. 

 

“You think this can hold me?” the demon chuckles, his host's voice like dark silk. “You're wrong.”

 

“Nic,” Alex says, bored as hell. “Come on, let's send this son of a bitch back to the hole it crawled out of.”

Nic obliges and begins reciting the exorcism incantation they'd both known since childhood. Alex joins him, and soon the demon is shuddering, the insane smile replaced by a rictus grimace, snarling threats through gritted teeth. 

 

“You might as well kill me and this bastard!” the demon roars over their chants. “I made him 

murder his wife! He'll never be the same; you'll have damned him as much as-”

 

An inhuman shriek rips from the host's mouth as his entire body goes tense, his head thrown back as the unholy parasite is banished from his being. Then he slumps over, and would fall out of the chair were it not for the chains binding him to it. 

 

“Think it worked?” Nic says.

“Probably,” Alex replies. going over and checking the other man's pulse. “We'll wait til he wakes up, though, just to be sure. You got the holy water?”

 

“Always.”

 

“Good.”

* * *

 

The last thing Richard Strand remembers is going to sleep with Coralee by his side. 

 

When he wakes up, his head is positively  _ murdering _ him, and he can't move. Bewildered, he gives a start, lifting his head with difficulty and a distinct clinking alerts him to the chains. “What the…” 

 

“He's up,” a man says.

 

“Douse him,” a female voice replies. 

 

And then his face is soaked, drenched in what he soon identifies as water. He coughs, shaking his head in an effort to clear it. 

 

“He's clean, then.” Footsteps echo off a concrete floor, and a woman kneels down in front of him. He manages to focus on her face. 

 

She's young, late twenties to early thirties, with chin length brown hair and hazel eyes. She’d look like a student from the university he teaches at if it weren't for the long scar marring her face, from her hairline, curving around her features, narrowly missing her right eye and stopping just by her upper lip. 

 

“Can you hear me?” she asks. He nods. 

 

“Can you speak?” 

 

“I think so,” he tries. 

 

“What's your name?” 

 

“Where am I? What's going on?” He's getting rather irritated, as he really doesn't have time for kidnappings. 

 

“We'll explain. Your name, please.”

 

“I-Richard,” he huffs, giving up. “Richard Strand.”

 

She stands up, walking behind him, and he hears the chains clinking again, but pretty soon his bonds fall away.

 

“What is all this?” he demands, standing up-or at least trying to; his knees give out and the woman has to catch him. For such a slip of a thing, she's surprisingly strong. 

 

“Do you believe in God, Richard?” she asks, helping him to his feet. 

 

He scoffs. “Are you serious? Religion is a sham.”

 

“What about ghosts?” 

 

He gives a snort at that one. “Ghosts?” he laughs, and the ache in his side tells him what shape his ribs are in. “Ghosts are nothing more than a manifestation of people's guilt and apophenia.”

 

“Apophenia?” the woman echoes. 

 

“People are so desperate to believe in the supernatural they'll make up ghosts and apparitions in an attempt to be able to blame their mistakes and direct their trauma elsewhere.”

 

“How sensitive of you,” she mutters. 

 

“Science isn't sensitive. It's blunt and it's honest.”

 

She lets him rant for a few more minutes as she gets him into another chair and the man with her hands him a shot of whiskey. 

 

“Now, would you like to tell me why I woke up in a shack tied to a chair and surrounded by a giant pentagram rather than in my own bed?” he says when he's finally tired of talking. 

 

“You wanna tell him, Alex?” the man asks the woman. 

 

“Why don't you do it, Nic?” she counters. 

 

Nic sighs before turning to face him.

 

“You were possessed by a demon,” he says seriously. 


	2. Chapter 2

_ Possessed by a demon? _

 

“No, be honest. I don’t have time for jokes.”

 

“We are being honest,” Alex says, her arms crossed. “Believe it or not, Richard-”

 

“Dr. Strand.”

 

“Excuse me?” 

 

“Call me by my title, please. I’m a doctor.”

 

“Of what? Pediatrics?” she scoffs. 

 

“Psychology. Mythology. Religion,” he says, bristling. “I have my P.H.D and I’d appreciate if you addressed that.” 

 

She and Nic exchange a disbelieving look. “You don’t believe in God, but you have a degree in religion?”  

 

“That’s correct.”

 

Alex shakes her head as if to clear it. “Well _ , Dr. _ Strand, what do you know about demons?”

 

“That they aren’t real.”

 

“Cut your shit. Whether or not you believe it, you  _ were _ possessed by a demon-”

 

He snickers at that. “Spare me the fairy tale.” 

 

_ “I am going to punch him,”  _ Alex hisses to Nic, before turning back to him. “What’s the date?” she asks him.

 

When he went to bed, it’d been the sixth. “June 7th, 2015.”

 

“Wrong,” she says flatly. “It’s the fifteenth.” 

 

“What? No it isn’t-”

 

She shoves her phone into his face. Blinking, he reads the display.  _ June 15, 9:06 P.M. _

 

“You tampered with the date on that,” he says, his eyes following  the phone. 

 

She clenches her jaw. “I’m showing him the article about Coralee,” she tells Nic, turning her head to look at him.

 

Had he not heard his wife’s name, he would’ve taken the opportunity to surprise Alex and grab the phone. “Coralee?” he echoes. “What about her? Where’s my wife?”

 

“Alex,” Nic says warningly as she taps at her phone. “Don’t-”

 

She hands Richard her phone. “Here. Read this.”

 

Warily, he glances at the display. The title alone is enough to send him reeling.

 

_ Well-Known Scientist Dr. Richard Strand Murders Wife, Disappears. _

 

“Is this some kind of joke?” he snarls at them, trying to ignore the thrill of horror turning his blood to ice.

 

“Do I look like we're joking?” Alex says. 

 

“Where. Is. Coralee.” 

 

“Didn't you read the article?” 

 

“I would never hurt Coralee-”

 

“You might not, but a demon would,” Alex says colorlessly.

 

He would hurl her phone across the room if it weren’t his best chance at escape. “Enough with the demons!” he shouts. “Enough with your nonsense and insane stories! I want to know what is going on and I want to know _ now _ !”

 

Alex heaves a sigh. “You are so annoying,” she grumbles. “Nobody else has this kind of reaction. Everybody else accepts it. Everybody else goes ahead and processes their entire world view changing, and here you are still stuck in denial.”

 

“There is nothing to deny,” Richard spits at them, “because demons do not exist.”

 

“Yes, they do!” Alex shouts at him, infuriated, “and believe it or not, so do ghosts and monsters and every  subject in every piece of lore that has ever been written and discovered! Haven’t you ever considered that there may be more to the world than science?”  

 

“The world  _ is  _ science. The world was created from science, not some holy deity.”  

 

Alex facepalms with a short scream of frustration. Nic watches her, worried. 

 

“I can’t do this anymore,” she says, turning and heading for the door. “You take over, Nic. I’m going to take a watch shift.”

 

“Alex, wait.” Nic follows her, too distracted to see Strand turn on Alex’s phone and dial 911.

 

Unfortunately for him, the call volume is at a level that should only be for deaf people.

 

_ “911, what’s your emergency?” _ blares out into the cabin. Alex and Nic spin around.

 

_ Damn _ , he thinks. 

 

“Shit!” Alex blurts, making a beeline for him, but he’s already on his feet. He manages to knock her aside with a sweep of his arm.

 

_ “Hello? Is someone there?” _

 

All it takes for Nic is a rough shove against the wall of the cabin, and the doorway is clear. He doesn’t hesitate to run through it and out into what looks like pure forest.

 

_ “Are you unable to speak?”  _

 

Still holding Alex’s phone, he takes off into the woods, jumping over fallen limbs and brush. 

  
“My name is Richard Strand,” he pants into the phone, “I’ve been abducted and I’m currently trying to escape, but I’m lost in the middle of a forest.”

 

_ “Okay, Richard, I’ll try and track your location and alert the nearest authorities. Please keep your communication device with you while we try and find you.” _

 

He doesn’t have a chance to respond because something crashes into him and he’s knocked to the ground, and ends up with a mouth full of dirt. He twists his body, and sees that his attacker is Alex.

 

He doesn’t, however, see the rock she’s holding.

 

When she brings it into the side of his head and knocks him out, however, he definitely feels it. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is short, but hopefully still good.

Richard wakes up again in chains, this time in the backseat of a car. A frustrated growl escapes him as he tries to release himself from his bonds. His head aches fiercely, and he internally curses Alex.

 

“Do you have any idea how _fucking stupid_ that was?” Said psychopath turns around in the passenger seat as Nic drives and hisses her words.

 

He only glares at her. He probably has a concussion, thanks to her. Moodily, he kicks at her seat repeatedly, driving the toe of his shoe into the fake leather over and over.

 

“For a guy with a P.H.D, you are an absolute idiot,” she continues, ignoring his childish actions. “They’ll be tracking that phone now. Do you know how much I loved that phone?” He can’t help but wonder where that phone is, probably wiped and left behind or destroyed.

 

There goes any chance of freedom, he thinks to himself.

 

“You are a fucking _murder suspect!_ ” Alex yells at him, continuing her lecture. “People are looking for you, and not so they can wrap you in a shock blanket and send you home. They are going to toss you in a fucking jail cell!”

 

“Under what evidence?” Richard barks.

 

“You have security cameras in your house. There’s a recording of you murdering your wife,” Alex replies, very matter-of-factly.

 

“I did not kill Coralee!”

 

“No, you didn’t! An asshole from hell took over your body and killed her. But, because dicks like you won’t take demonic possession as grounds for acquittal, you’re screwed, Dr. Strand.”

 

“Demons do not exist-”

 

“I have a recording that says otherwise,” she snaps, “but I’m not going to show it to you because I have a feeling you don’t want to watch yourself rip your wife to shreds.”

 

That catches him off-guard, and the mental image staggers him. Something lodges in his throat, and he can’t speak, so he just shakes his head.

 

“Your daughter’s okay, by the way,” Alex says quietly after a few moments of choked silence, dialing back her angry ranting. “We got to her before the demon did. She’s safe, but…”

 

“But what?” he rasps, thinking of Charlie, of everything that could have possibly gone wrong.

 

“She-she thinks you tried to kill her.”

 

He buries his face into his cuffed hands. “Why?”

 

“Because you did-well, the demon did. If my dad came at me with a knife, I’d be pretty freaked out.”

 

“Is she hurt?”

 

“No, just scared. She’ll probably need therapy for a while, but who doesn’t, right?”

 

Her calm attitude is starting to grate on him.

 

“My entire life has supposedly gone down the drain, and you just sit there and act like it’s an everyday occurrence?” he rages at her.

 

“That’s because it is an everyday occurrence,” she fires back. “We watch families and people fall apart all the time because they wouldn’t let us help them and got in the way. But if you shut up  and listen to us, Nic and I might be able to help you piece your broken life halfway back together.”

 

He finds that incredibly depressing, and now is extremely curious about her coping methods. How does she deal with seeing lives fall apart all the time? Does she drink? Does she use drugs? Does she self-harm? How did she get the scar that runs down the side of her face in one long line of raised skin?

 

“Where are we going?” he asks, changing the subject.

 

“Seattle, Washington,” Nic answers from the driver’s seat.

 

“When we get there, we’re going to take the chains off, _on one condition_.” Alex stresses the last three words.

 

“What?” Richard grumbles, feeling like he already knows the answer.

 

“You stay with us, and you stay quiet. That means no running off, no calling the police again, no contacting anybody from home, and no saying anything that makes you sound like a dick.”

 

“That sounds like more than one condition,” he snarks.

 

“And you’re violating it right now,” she counters.

 

He scowls before questioning, “Why are we going to Seattle?”

 

“We think there’s a vampire nest up there,” Alex answers. “We’re going to meet up with a couple hunters and clear it out.” She pauses before saying, “Hey, Nic, you called Dean and told him we could handle it, right?”

 

“Yeah, he’ll step back for this one. I don’t think he’s a fan of Seattle. Besides, he’s busy with a freak accident in Vegas. Poltergeist, I think.”

 

“Fun,” she says sarcastically. “And who doesn’t love Seattle?”

 

“I don’t know, the vampires are kind of annoying; they really hurt the real estate.”

 

Their conversation is so bizarre he can’t help butting in.

 

“Vampires? Poltergeist?” he sputters. “You track down fairytales and fake lore? To do what, post to your cryptid blog?”

 

“No, we’re taking care of the problems they cause,” Nic says.

 

“So, what? You send them running off into the woods?” he scoffs.

 

Alex gives him a grin, a false smile that unsettles him.

 

“Oh, no, Dr. Strand. We kill them.”


	4. Chapter 4

Alex and Nic are insane. They have to be, to be carrying around a fugitive with them. She glances at Strand in the backseat.

 

He’s restless, and he hasn’t stopped kicking her seat since he woke up, and that was two hours ago. It’s enough to make her want to clock him in the head with another rock. His glasses are filthy, and she wonders if he can even see.

 

“Hey,” Nic says, grabbing her attention. “We have a problem.”

 

“What?” she demands, thinking of all the horrible things that could have happened. Maybe Ruby and Amalia are hurt, maybe the nest moved, maybe Dean had decided to step in after all-

 

“We haven’t eaten anything in almost twenty-four hours,” Nic says, “and my blood sugar’s getting really  low.”

 

“Alright, well, we can’t stop anywhere with him.” She jerks her head at Strand, relaxing as the worst of possibilities fade away, and digs up a granola bar out of her bag, handing it to Nic. That should hold him off for now.

 

“You’re right. So, I’m going to pull over and one of us is going to get in the backseat with him and untie him, and sit with him the rest of the way to Seattle.”

 

She grimaces. “Fine. I’ll take babysitting duty and sit with the moody teenager.”

 

“I can hear you, you know,” Strand says. “And I’m older than you-”

 

“Shush.”

 

“Sound like a plan?” Nic asks.

 

“Yeah. Pull over when you can.”

* * *

 

Nic pulls over about ten miles later, and when Alex opens up the car door, activates the child proof locks. She climbs in next to him, pushing his long legs over to the left side of the car and shuts her door. “What are you, Bigfoot?” she grumbles.

 

“‘Bigfoot’ is nothing more than-”

 

“-a figment of people’s imagination and some bullshit called apophenia, yeah we get it,” she mutters, fiddling with the chains.

 

“So here’s the plan. We’re going to go through a drive through and get some food. You’re gonna sit tight and quiet while we order, and then shut up and eat. Sound good?”

 

He’d probably disagree, but she could hear his stomach growling since the cabin, and knows he’s starving and he’s their best shot at getting food for the moment. He clearly knows this too, because all he does is give her a begrudging nod.

 

“Alright then.” She drops the last of the chains to the floorboard and kicks them under the passenger seat.

 

“How have you two not gotten arrested yet?” he grumbles under his breath.

 

“Who says we haven’t?”she counters. “We got out. Clean and simple. If someone recognizes you by accident and you get caught, we’ll get you out too. If you get caught because you’re being a dickish idiot, though, it’s going to be a hell of a lot harder for you to get out. Want to know why?”

 

He raises an eyebrow, looking almost bored.

 

“Because we’ll leave you there,” she says fiercely, no longer joking around, watching the flicker of shock that crosses his expression. “You’ll go to trial and spend the rest of your life in a maximum-security prison. We’re not going to try and get you out of it because we warned you, and you’ll have gotten yourself into that mess.”

 

“Your moral compass astounds me.”

 

She rolls her eyes. “There’s nothing to have morals about. There are nasty things out there, Dr. Strand, that kill and hurt people, that ruin lives, that have sat in the exact same spot you’re sitting now. We kill the nasty things. You don’t need morals for that.”

 

“Suppose these ‘nasty things’ are a bit more human. You haven’t come across any that are the exception? Some that don’t hurt anybody, that try to live normal lives?” Strand inquires.

 

“We haven’t had that luxury. We do know a couple guys who have.”

 

“And what happens to them? The more human ones?’”

 

She shrugs. “Depend on the hunter who runs into them. Some think that monsters are monsters, and need to die. Some think that as long as they don’t hurt anybody, killing them isn’t necessary.”

 

“Which are you?”

 

She stares at him, silent for a moment. “We’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

 

“Besides,” Nic cuts in, “you can’t run forever. Things always catch up with you, whether you’re a monster or a human, or whatever. If there’s anything Alex and I have learned, it’s that the past is a bitch that won’t leave you alone.”

 

Strand tenses, and pretty soon it’s like Alex is sitting next to a rock. He looks deeply troubled, and she wonders if he’s thinking about his possession or something else.

 

He catches her looking at him and swivels his head away from her, staring out the window.

 

He’s such a mystery to her. She’d researched him while he was possessed and found little to nothing on his life before college. She doesn’t know anything about him; it’s like he’s a ghost, a simile he’d probably hate for her to use to describe them.

 

Before she became a hunter, she’d wanted to be a journalist. This guy is a young writer’s wet dream.

 

Well, if he’s a mystery, he’s one she’s going to solve.

* * *

 

They find a McDonald’s and order a shit ton of food. Nic’s wallet is going to hate him in the morning, but he doesn’t seem to care as he passes two grease-stained bags to the passengers in the back seat.

 

Alex peers into one and sees a large fry plus two double cheeseburgers that definitely aren’t hers and passes the bag to Strand.

 

“Eat up, Doc,” she says, not even bothering to hear his grumbled reply as she digs into her own bag.  

 

“I still can’t believe you got _forty_ chicken nuggets,” Nic snickers from the front.

 

“Shut up and eat your Big Macs, Nicodemus,” she parries. She sees  him wrinkle his nose at using his full name.

 

“I can’t stand my parents,” he mutters. “What were you thinking, Mom and Dad?’

 

“Probably, ‘what’s a name that screams white man’s power fantasy? I know, Nicodemus Ashford Silver!’” she teases, doing a poor imitation of Nic’s estranged mother. “At least they didn’t name you something dumb, like Terry or whatever.”

 

“There's that,” Nic mumbles through a mouthful of food.

 

Strand watches them go back and forth, eating silently as he observes. It's like he's puzzled by the concept of friendship.

 

She's not sure if that thought is sobering or amusing.

 

“Enjoying your processed goodness, Dr. Strand?” she says, poking at his metaphorical wall.

 

He doesn't answer, just continues eating.

 

A thought occurs to her, and it slams the brakes on any joke she was about to tell.

 

“What if we need to play as suits? What are we gonna do with him?” she demands.

 

“I don't know,” Nic says. “Maybe he could play silent  agent and I'll be a field consultant.”

 

“Your suit won't fit him, though.”

 

The two turn to Strand, looking him over. He's still wearing the white button down and  black dress pants from the day before.

 

“Maybe just the jacket and tie?”

 

“That could work.”

 

Strand's been looking increasingly perplexed, and now he just looks bewildered. “What are you two talking about?”

 

“We might have to pretend to be FBI agents,” Alex explains.

 

His eyes widen. “Are you moronic? That's against federal law.”

 

“So is murdering your wife-” The retort comes out before she can stop it.

 

Something indescribable flashes across Strand's face before he tamps it down and puts on a blank mask. _Shit_. Alex cringes at her own idiocy. Even Nic winces.

 

“I'm sorry. That crossed a line,” she apologizes. “It's- I'm sorry.”

 

Strand appears to ignore her, and continues eating.

  
He doesn't make a sound the rest of the way to Seattle, and she doesn't try to get one out of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment/kudos, please?


End file.
